


Inside Out

by DiazTuna



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, F/F, I don't know what this is but it's magic it's the future and it's gay!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-03 23:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12157422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiazTuna/pseuds/DiazTuna
Summary: It's midnight and Emma Swan's heart gets stolen quite literally out of her chest by a complete stranger.





	1. Extraordinary, un-ordinary beginning (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Grevling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grevling/gifts).



> I don't know how else to describe this vibe instead of "Magic Cyberpunk, Future-Buffy-ish AU!" 
> 
> Bailey, this is your doing. Here's the playlist because it's rad: [It really is rad](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gL-bTvAB2GY&index=1&list=PLk_cBaVR-TG_95KLq4iGpEBuzO0Tat_xe)

There are questionable life choices, Emma Swan has always known this. Her life, after all, had been built on them. And if you were to ask her she would tell you that midnight tacos are the cornerstone of all questionable choices. She finds herself under the pink of Jerry’s floating sign, positive that she is colder than she has ever been in this life. An exaggeration as it is only the beginning of Winter and she had remembered her grey woolen gloves this time. Her boots tap the cold pavement to rhythm of the synthesizer coming from the cart Jerry has no doubt paid extra to have enchanted, truly believing this night is ordinary. White sauce, green sauce and red sauce will go on top the chopped onions and three hours later she will be cursing every single unknown ancestor for her lack of resilience against chiles. She will then declare to an empty room as she takes her potion that it had been worth it. That is, of course, if this night were an ordinary night. 

 

Emma is being handed one chicharron taco, two carne asada ones and one egg and ham taco when it happens. Her heart gets stolen. Quite literally out of her chest.  Hearing the click of high heels on concrete Emma wonders for one second, perhaps shamefully, if it’s worth dropping her perfectly sauced tacos over. Her heart hadn’t been used much throughout the years and is certainly not worth very much. 

 

“Come back here, that’s my heart!” She shouts only half groaning as she runs after them. Her decision is made and yet she remains unaware of the significance of it. “I only have the one!” 

 

It feels odd to feel her pulse beating in someone’s hand, but not altogether bad she admits to herself. If Emma could describe it as anything it would be  _ warm _ , like that moment that is always too short when hot chocolate seems to melt problems away. Despite this warmth lodging itself into the void where her heart should be she thinks that a thief is a thief. Emma Swan knows this better anyone else. For once upon a time, she would tell you, she was a pretty damn good one. 

 

“Goddamit.”She mutters realizing that at this speed recovering her stolen heart will be an impossible task. 

 

The streets are yellow and purple with the colors of Friday night lights and damp with melted snow. It is the song from a time different than this, a time without such extravagant magic Emma has been told, that drives her steps. If she had been musically inclined she might have counted the one-two-three-fours of her steps after she chases after click of her thief’s steps getting farther and farther away. Her eyes spot an unsecured bicycle just as she begins to realize that perhaps this night is not quite the same as the rest. The bicycle is a disturbing shade of green and an eyesore of a silver honk is attached to it. 

 

“Just my luck to get an unmagicked bicycle!” Emma’s frustration begins pedalling after the stranger who cradles her heart with soft hands that smell like lavender and pepper. She does not claim to understand how she knows the peculiarities of her thief. “Slow down, would you?!” 

 

A swish of wind is the one to answer her. It howls in her ear as her eyes water and she can barely make out the dark shape of the stranger’s coat. You see, her heart tells her through one or ninety-seven beats that this woman, for a woman is her thief, is not accustomed to this type of thing. Stealing something for the purpose of keeping it close, that is. 

 

“Lady, come on!” She honks at her and the sound is the most unfortunate one bouncing from noise barrier to noise barrier and back to knock her off her stolen bicycle. “Fuck.” Emma coughs out knowing that all is lost. 

 

However, this night, that was never meant to be ordinary, is yet to prove her wrong again. There is of that hint lavender as a cloud of violet manifests in front of her. Emma blinks once, twice and all she sees are dark eyes that haven’t quite made up their mind about her. 

 

“You’re an idiot.” Her thief says before pushing her heart back into her chest. 

 

Emma gasps as it beats against her chest. A heart that has just been returned should not beat faster as you would know, it’s usually content to have been returned. Her own heart only tints her face red as she discerns the color on the woman’s lips. Ripe apple. It begins to fade away into the violet and she is confronted with her truth. 

 

She does not want her heart back. 

 

“Hey, hey, hey! You’re not leaving....!” She scrambles to get to her feet and grabs at the cloud hoping to catch her thief. All that is left of her is a red silk scarf. “Shit.” 

 

This, Emma Swan, will later describe as the unlikely beginning of the rest of her life. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The narrator is Jameela Jamil's Tahani Al-Jamil from the Good Place and enjoying this story.

But the beginnings of the rest your life never truly feel like beginnings. Especially for Emma Swan and the heart she refuses to call lonely aloud. It’s a Saturday night and it beats and beats under her chest and she wonders if it had always been like that. The only fresh memory she possesses of it beating in this manner is the district doctor letting her play with her stethoscope when she was seven years old.Her jeans reached her ankles and her tennis shoes were tight around her pinkies, the doctor said she had a good and strong heart. Even as she heard drumming away in her ears, young Emma Swan believed it to be a lie. Now she is not so sure, her heart had been stolen. But then again it had also been given back. The glow of her holo screen makes her eyes burn but she is absolutely determined to find a trail online.

 

She comes across Wendigos and stories about them that have obviously been written by the wrong sort of people. Besides, she reasons, it is unlikely that a Wendigo would have smelled of pepper and lavender. Ancient rituals involving strong hands and stone for the gods come next and it’s not entirely possible that the owner of silk scarf would participate in them. Wincing she realizes it’s the time to join a retro-board, a site so committed to authentic early internet experience that it’s all greys and blues with an interface Emma hardly understands. She creates a username that she will rather forget but most certainly will not and finds just the board she needs. _Magical crimes_ it reads with two animated flames surrounding it.

 

“This is a cesspit.” Emma blinks at the screen reading each post with scrutiny. There is one particularly graphic post from a self-described creature of the night with badly lined eyes and a leather outfit so cheap that it catches her attention for a whole twenty-two seconds. Enough to know that he was boasting about, not reporting, a crime.

 

Of course, in such conditions, it seems that there are no useful threads in sight. Stolen kidneys, never returned lungs and even a half eaten brain. Nothing on stolen hearts so she sighs and braces herself for what she must do.

 

 _Got my heart stolen!!!_ She types in her title with more beating hearts than anyone would deem necessary. _I got my heart taken right out of my chest around midnight last night. Anyone have any idea who might have done it?!_

 

 _Yeah baby. Send me a pic and I’ll tell whether or not I’m your heart thief._ Reads the first response from a warlock from some warlock-right’s activist group. As you or any other person in this age would do, Emma blocks him without hesitation.

 

 _Odd. You should have some inkling as to where your heart is; it should be calling you to it._ The first reasonable answer after twenty-seven terrible one-liners. A witch with no avatar and who calls herself Breha.

 

_Huh, well funny thing. She put back in my chest not long after she took it. Any clue who it could be?_

 

Breha the witch, never replies. It is someone with a stack of books as their avatar answers with about five text citations that Emma can only skim through. _As you can see, there have been no recorded instances in which hearts have been returned. Would you mind describing in more detail?_ Emma, in fact, does mind as those details have become strangely intimate in the past hours. She is about to shut off her holoscreen when she catches the name Cora Mills at the bottom of a lengthy paragraph. Cora Mills, the name resonates like a distant time tower.

 

This is how Emma Swan spends the entirety of her night, reading every piece and article on the infamous Cora Mills, the so-called Queen of Hearts. Because as you may well have discovered, her mind works runs on instinct and obsession. It’s the weekly 4 AM powerout that forces her halt her investigation and instead lie in bed and deplete her Genie’s battery with her questions.

 

“So she kept all her stolen hearts in a vault? Isn’t that a little…” She says imagining a cold and grey underground vault filled with rows and rows of beating hearts.

 

“Creepy? Horrifying?  It’s how she built her business empire. Wouldn’t want to run into her in a dark alley.” Genie replies,  the blue of his face is already fading because of her second-rate holo-band. “Nobody could reject her deals. Squeezed hearts will do anything.”

 

Her brow furrows as she recalls the details of that night. Emma believes that she would have known if she were being made to run against her will. Her thief hadn’t so much as squeezed her heart to get her to slow down. It has likely not escaped your notice that she seems to understand a great deal about her thief without knowing the first thing about her.

 

“Hmm,” Emma pulls the covers up to her chest and lets her eyes close for the shortest of moments. “Someone like that must have left heirs.”

 

“She…” Genie’s voice glitches along with his face. “Did not. No records.”  A speck of violet spreads from his chin up.

 

“Genie?” She shakes her wrist thinking it other than a futile attempt to help.

 

“I would advise strongly against pursuing this any further. Drop this ridiculous chase of yours and give up.” Genie’s voice is warped and deeper than it usually is.

 

“Shit, shit! A magi-virus!” She unfastens her holo-band to restart Genie but it’s too late. The magi-virus ate up the last of her battery and it will take days to reboot. Emma groans into her pillow in frustration before tossing it to the other end of the room.

 

However, you remember that this is Emma Swan and it is not in her to quit. Incidentally, so does she and a personalized magi-virus meant she is getting closer to her thief.

 

“You’re gonna have to try better than that, lady.” Her voice echoes through her half empty apartment.

 

* * *

 

At this point you should know that Emma is a bounty hunter, not the best in the city but a fine one. Her current setting is no different to the ones she’s accustomed to. It has all the smoke and magic daze that comes from walking the underbelly of this world. There is no demon she has not heard of and indeed no creature that makes her blink twice.She sits at a Hellbeast bar armed with the knowledge that she is unique with her returned heart and that it’s somehow related to the Queen of Hearts.

 

“Right outta your chest?” Last I heard of something like that fear still had a name.” One of Tony’s heads replies as the other finish off their drinks.

 

“Cora Mills. Say what you want, but the pay was good.” A half-ox says from behind Tony. “Too bad Regina didn’t have the stomach for it in the end. Could use the money.”

 

“Regina. Regina Mills?”  Emma asks already feeling heart agreeing to the name.

 

“Yeah. Cora’s youngest.” The half-ox sets down his gallon of sagebeer on the bar. “She had her set up to take over the business. Kid was doing good or so I heard back then.”  Here it must be emphasized that a half-ox’s definition of good is not the common one and that Emma is too aware of this fact watching his nose ring glow green with intoxication.

 

“What happened?” She takes a strategic swig from her beer, something that would hide how little she truly knows. And Emma knows truly very little.

 

“After Cora’s magic went public kid kept her head low. Even offered her older sister the company.” The half-ox smacks his lips. “No way would Zelena accept her sister’s seconds.”

 

“Hmm. That’s rough.” Emma signals the bartender and order him another gallon of sagebeer. “Families, right?” The lie burns down her throat the way her drink never does.

 

“Got that right.” He agrees. “Glad their mother is not around to see how they turned out.”

 

She nods and pats his back like she knows she needs to before leaving. “Great talking to you…”

 

“Tim.”

 

“Right. Tim.” She pulls out two red notes and places them under her glass.

 

It should never be said that Emma leaves people with their drinks unpaid, even if they are of questionable morals.

* * *

 

You may have guessed that Emma Swan takes very little time in making decisions.Be it deciding to run away to the city with the purples and pinks at seventeen, stealing and keeping a car too old to drive, or picking a profession after knocking out a vampire’s fangs at a late night café. It should then come as a surprise that she is currently standing on the pavement outside one of the city’s finest buildings hesitating to go in at all. The magic vibrating off it feels expensive, purple and green lights run straight lines up all of its four floors. The same colors make up its flashing rotating sign.

 

**108 W.E. MAGICAL ARTIFACTS & LEGAL REPRESENTATION**

**_WE RAN GOLD OUT OF BUSINESS_ **

 

If sources paid through enchanted drinks and electro-credits are to be believed this is where The Mills sisters can be found. Judging by the ridiculous speed with which her heart beats, decidedly abnormal for a human heart, it must be true. And so she does the one thing that is left to do, stuff her bare hands into her jacket and walk in.

 

The artificial warmth of the place envelops her immediately. There are  rows and rows of artifacts neatly stacked up from floor to ceiling. Every single piece is carefully labelled with small running comments at the bottom of each; it should be noted that the owner of the store does not quite have the temper to deal with customers and any questions that they may ask.

 

“Boss, new customer! Not likely to steal this one!” A uninterested voice announces. Emma searches for it and finds a winged monkey scanning her with hologlasses. “Not anymore at least.” He mutters only to himself.

 

A dark green cloud smoke manifests itself between the Long Lost Magical Volumes of Oz and Man-Extermination (For All your Man Related Problems) Potions and Emma knows by the scent, rain on growing grass, that this is not her thief.

 

“And who do we have here?” Zelena Mills, for this must be her Emma concludes, verges on mockery.  Her dark eyes inspect her as if she might already suspect what has brought her here. “Let me guess, you have a pirate problem.”

 

“I don’t think so?” Emma blinks as she takes a step back.

 

“Hmm. In another time-line, who knows. Magic’s a bit off today.” She rolls her eyes just as she manifests a vision of the whole block accurate to the litter on the streets. “It’s those City Hall bastards and their ENDLESS DRILLING that’s causing the interference.”

 

It has to be said that while Emma has been surrounded by all sorts of magic for a good while now she has never seen it be used in such a carefree manner. For true magic users have no need to pay for magic, it comes as easy as breathing to them. She is only now realizing how the entirety of the store’s magic derives from her. She could be wrong but the black granite of the floor is the exact shade of her hair and the shelving rearranges itself as soon as her gaze shifts.

 

“If it’s not sea-rats then what’s brought you here?” She raises a brow and it becomes clear to Emma that she must choose her words carefully.

 

“Do you have anything for stolen hearts?” She decides to push her luck wishing she had bought some before she came in.

 

To this the woman who must be Zelena Mills begins to laugh uncontrollably and it’s spectacular really how the colors change inside the store, dancing to whatever rhythm her voice carries. To Emma it’s an explosion of different greens and yellows and clanking jars and spoons.

 

“Ah pet, you must looking for some legal advice then. Great waste of effort you turned out to be.”

 

“Excuse me?” She replies confused as she is offended.

 

“Go up two floors, first door to your right should help you with...stolen hearts.” Emma feels an unsubtle push at her back. “Do hurry up, non-customers are not allowed to linger down here.”

 

“Is there a rule against that?” She replies over her shoulder as she finds the stairs.

 

“No. I just prefer money to the alternative.”

 

“Boss! Paying customer!” The flying monkey says from somewhere above her.

 

“See?”

 

And with that Emma finds herself hesitating once more at the bottom of the stairs. They’re the same shade of black as the rest of the store and curve in a away she would never have expected in a city full of sharp and sleek corners. She has not forgotten about her heart, stolen and returned by the person who must by the end of these stairs. Emma Swan has seldom listened to small and unused thing in her chest let alone trusted it but today she makes her way up because it is hammering her ribs away.

 

A door fashioned from black-glass sits at her right, there is no mistaking it. Her thief’s door.

 

**Regina Mills**

**Attorney at Law**

 

There isn't a door knob and it slides open as soon as Emma breathes in its vicinity. She can feel the magic here too, different to the one at the bottom of the stairs. It is restraint she feels but cannot name; the lavender and pepper are barely coming through.

 

“Can I help you?” Asks a young boy with big brown eyes who has forgotten to remove his scarf.

 

Emma looks at his full coils and eager smile and asks herself if she was ever that young.

 

“You a para-legal kid?” She asks feeling an uncharacteristic fondness, one that she is attributing to her heart condition.

 

“Mom hasn't promoted me yet.” He replies without missing a beat. “I’m Henry by the way.” He says with the confidence of a child that has had his name carefully chosen for him.

 

“I’m Emma.” She stretches her hand to him and he shakes it with complete ease. “Tell me, do I need an appointment or do you think your boss will let me see her?”

 

At this point it's important to say that her heart is threatening to make her voice shake and it makes Henry Mills feel a certain sympathy for her.

 

“If the door opened for you then she has to see you. It’s how it works.” He replies suggesting that this fact should have been obvious to her.

 

“Right. I knew that.”

 

Another door behind him opens almost imperceptibly and he shuffles to a desk that seems to be reserved for him.

 

“That means you can go in.” Henry cracks open a book that is surely half his weight and turns his gaze on her one last time. “But you knew that.”

 

If you imagine that at this precise moment the whole of Emma Swan is vibrating with something she doesn’t quite understand you would be correct. She had gone over this moment a little over two-hundred and eighty-six times and each version varied. However in all of them she confronted her thief straight away, demanded an explanation for having her heart returned and the end she would rather not divulge to you.Nothing in those daydreams and fantasies could have prepared her for this moment. For her thief sitting behind a desk, her grey dress colored purple and green from the glow of the lights outside. True magic, much like true love, is always obvious and captivating to the onlooker. It is only her vague indifference that cuts through this moment that she will later refer to as _the moment._

 

“Have a seat, won’t you Miss…” She says without even so much as raising her eyes away from her documents.

 

“Swan. Emma Swan. Emma’s fine.” Emma answera hoping in behalf of her heart that her name will strike recognition in her thief. It does not.

 

“Before we begin Miss Swan I have to know, are you in any way affiliated with one of the mayor gangs?” Regina Mills, for this is she, looks at her and her heart believes that this might be it, when whatever she denies to wishing happens. “You’re still standing.” It’s what she says instead.

 

It’s the shock of looking into the same eyes that had so easily looked at her before disappearing and the lips colored the same shade of ripe apple speak the words of a complete stranger that have her taking a seat. Emma knows little of magical rules and law but she knows enough that having your heart stolen puts two people above the category stranger. Her heart who hardly is letting her think begs her to denounce the injustice.

 

“I’m a bounty hunter, does that count?” Emma says after clearing her throat and subtly rubbing her chest. “They all hate me just the same.”

 

“Well, we have that in common.” Regina Mills replies dryly as she jots down general observations about her. As you can imagine the scene is creating an internal turmoil that seems to go unnoticed by her thief. “So tell me, why are you here?”

 

“I had my heart stolen.” Emma says as flatly as she can ignoring the ache in her chest.

 

“And you filed a claim against the thief and are seeking a full…” She answers with words that seem to have been practiced in front of a mirror far too many times, said too many times that they have become completely blunt.

 

“No. I..uh. I got it back. My heart. l have it.”

 

“So you will be suing for damages.” She gazes at Emma and there is the split second when her lips press together and Emma catches the concern in them. It makes her smile, inappropriately of course.

 

“No.” Instinctively, or perhaps because her heart understands it will elicit a reaction from Regina Mills, she shrugs.

 

“Then why,” She flashes her a full smile, a vision serve to hide what a vein at her temple is unable to. “Are you here?”

 

“I don’t even know who my thief is.” Her heart resents the lie very much. “I was told you could help with me that.”

 

She scoffs and much in the same voice that had called her an idiot all those nights ago she asks, “Who told you that preposterous lie?”

 

“The Dragon down in forty-five.” Her answer spells disaster she is aware but it’s her only strategy. She couldn’t have foreseen that her thief would be so remarkably unmoved by her and Emma needs something that lets her stay.

 

“That shows the calibre of people you surround yourself with.” She snaps at her and the disdain isn’t even practiced. She truly feels it, her heart picks up on it. This is something she has grown up with, known it since she could lace her shoes and spell her name.

 

Emma sighs to chase away whatever had come over. “Look, police are no help. I haven’t found anything on my end besides the black market for love magic. You’re my best lead.”

 

“When you find them? Then what?” Regina runs a hand through her hair and Emma knows something flutters in response to way it makes her look.

 

“You’re the lawyer, you tell me.” She leans forward or as much as she will allow herself in this precarious situation.

 

Regina eyes for a while and it’s just the speck of violet in the brown of her eyes that gives her away. The same fingers that had cradled her stolen heart lock together in protection, for as you and Emma both know, there is a secret Regina Mills believes needs protecting.

 

“And just what am I supposed to get out of it?” Emma had been a thief but never one as brazen as this particular and striking thief.

 

The curve of her lips and the intensity of her glare make Emma laugh as her returned heart beats and beats in the only way she remembers.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While the characterization is the same, Zelena and Henry are race-bent to reflect on-going recast thing (side-project?) I've got going on, found [here](https://spicytunalane.tumblr.com/search/ouat%20as%20subversive%20show%22%22)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late and a little short! Thanks for reading this ridiculous mix of things!

Perhaps you’ve forgotten that it is Winter and that on this particular night it snows. Not quite heavily or too lightly even but just enough to cover the ground in a fine and soon to be ruined blanket of cold. Of course Emma Swan already suspects this, sitting on a half frozen park bench in the City Woods light by the bright white of floating lights. This time she’d forgotten her grey woolen gloves but that isn’t too important as she holds onto the two cups of coffee she’d paid an extra purple bill to have them be forever warm. Her heart is excited about the prospect of this night, beating at its usual pace under a two layers of clothing and one single rib cage. Even so, Emma digs her heels into the ground, trying to ease her mind off the fact that her thief is late. This she knows because her heartbeats have been keeping count.

 

“I couldn’t have picked a worse place even if I tried.” Regina’s voice reaches her ears before anything else can pick the delicate traces of her magic.

 

“Don’t look at me, this is your lead.” Emma answers offering up a cup as she gets to her feet. She wonders if she is at all obvious, if eyes are giving her away.

 

Regina accepts it in a less than gracious manner and takes one sip. She presses her lips together as if to keep from saying something. Emma knows, she can feel whatever she leaves unsaid in her bones. A side effect of having your heart stolen and returned by a woman who seems to be exasperated at the very idea of her.

 

“You’re lucky I agreed to do this at all,” She walks ahead to signal Emma to follow her deeper into the City Woods.

 

“Mhmm.” Emma hums discerning the truth from the lie, not quite sure the former lies on lucky. “Bear claw?”

 

“It’s half-past midnight, Miss Swan.” Regina looks at it and must be able to tell that this kind of thing, as you know, does not matter to Emma.

 

“Suit yourself.” She shrugs her shoulders and decides against her own wishes on keeping quiet. Perhaps, despite everything rushing through her body, this was a mistake. She opts to take small bites of her cold pastry and drink her too sweet coffee.

 

“May I ask why are you even bothering with this ridiculous chase?” Her gloved hand runs through her hair.

 

Emma smiles for eight heartbeats tell her she has heard these words before and bites into her lip to keep it from becoming embarrassing.

 

“Well?”

 

“If you had your heart stolen wouldn’t you want find who did it?” The City Woods lights become green as they keep walking into territory that feels unfamiliar.

 

“Only if they had kept it.” It’s meant to sound sharp but it ends up falling short to Emma, not that Regina Mills imagines this. “Yours was returned.”

 

“Call it curiosity, then.” Her voice might have shaken somewhat with the words but she manages in the end. “Come on, you seriously wouldn’t want to know?”

 

Regina narrows her eyes as if she doesn’t know what to make of her words and it is in the green of almost one in the morning that she takes her first good look at her tonight. Brown eyes that are trying hard not to light up, hair that has caught some snowflakes and skin that has seen more Sun than she thought possible in Winter.

 

“I’m not that curious.” Her heart, who had been growing warmer and agitated, urges her to fight this statement.

 

“Why are you here then?” Emma forgets her whole self and lets her bare fingers touch Regina’s forearm.

 

“It’s a business transaction, Miss Swan.” For the onlooker and perhaps even to you, the way Regina pulled away might have seemed subtle but to Emma it was anything but. “Sometimes there is less savory work I rather not get involved with and well you’re a...”

 

“Bounty-hunter, yeah. Got it.” She cuts in too dejected for someone who had signed a non-binding magical contract just a few days ago. “What are we supposed to find in this place anyway?”

 

“The Woods is one of the first places to have crossed over when portals opened,” Regina looks up to the canopy of trees as if she’s seen something. “Crow-people came over…”

 

“Crow-people steal hearts?” Emma asks tilting her head in confusion.

 

“That’s racist, you know.” Someone says above them. “You people make up one saying about crows poking eyes out and suddenly we’re responsible for all organ thefts.”

 

Regina glares at Emma, a clear indication that she has broken some sort of rule. The Crow-person swoops down at them causing Regina to slip in the slightest way and Emma to catch her even when she’s not falling.

 

“It’s been a long time, Regina.” The Crow-Person’s feathers are smooth black that catches the green of the light. “Is your sister doing well?”

 

“She is, thank you.” She says with the tone of someone who has chosen to forget but cannot.

 

“Heard you’re a mother now too. Good for you, bad for business but good for you. How old is the boy now?”

 

“Keep my son out of this, Lupe.”

 

Emma can feel something brewing deep in her belly and wonders if it’s only because Regina eyes have been shaded violet.

 

“I will, I promise.If you tell me who _this_ is.” Lupe points at Emma.

 

It is with an unexpected squeeze to her shoulder that might have almost killed her that Emma understands that she is supposed to remain quiet.

 

“This is Miss Swan. She’s in a bit of bind you see.” Her smile is not a genuine one, it cannot be in such a situation.

 

“Had her heart stolen? I would have thought _you_ would have better places to look.” Lupe stretches their wings and preens their feathers.

 

Regina clears her throat something Emma instinctively takes it to mean she has been offended.

 

“I got it back.” Emma chimes before anything else is said. “Far as I know, that the first anything like that’s happened, right?”

 

They turn their eyes to Regina but because of the expression-less face feathers allow them, Emma cannot make out what such a look must mean to her.

 

“I’ve been to five different realms and I have never heard of anything of the sort. Strange but not impossible.” They cock their head as if they are trying to focus on a sound. “It’s only logical you’d want to get the bottom of it.”

 

“Yes, _thank you_!” Emma replies pointedly while Regina sighs in something that feels very much like disappointment.

 

“I can’t help you.” They say somehow injecting different meanings into their words.

 

“What?!” Regina and Emma say in unison and Emma’s heart will never let her forget. In fact, she will revisit this moment in the future in the shower and the occasional bath.

 

“It isn’t like the old days, Regina. I haven’t been keeping up with the world.” They walk over to the nearest tree and picks at the trunk. “And besides, you didn’t even have the dignity of bringing silver in exchange for answers.”

 

“I wasn’t implying anything of the sort, I merely…”

 

“Except you were. Coming to see a Crow-person for answers? Old habits die hard. Don’t they?” Emma feels that newly familiar sensation just as she notices Regina’s hand tightening as it turns upwards with something that resembles a spark.

 

“So if you can’t help us then we’re done here, right?” Emma asks them letting her underbelly skills take over.

 

“Don’t be so hasty,” Lupe says cooly. “For a secret I might point you in the right direction.”

 

“A secret?” Regina asks raising a single eyebrow.

 

“Not one of yours. Those I know.” A single feather stretches out from his wings as a finger would to point at Emma. “Any of yours would do just fine.”  

 

“I love the smell of lavender. Does that count?” And this, Emma will later swear, was said by her heart.

 

“That’ll do.” Lupe folds their wings still with an unreadable expression. “Tita’s on Friday night. Maybe that’ll bring you closer to your thief.”

 

“How is that supposed to do any good?” Regina takes forward in a manner that resembles a predator stalking its prey.

 

“You’ll figure it out.” With that and completely unexpectedly they caws sharply causing Emma to spill her forever warm coffee on herself and the snow. This she had expected much earlier.

 

“Really?” Feeling the sugar slipping through her fingers.

 

Here it must be noted that Emma knows enough Spanish to make her way in the city of the purples and pinks but it will be years before she learns the meaning of Lupe’s next words. “Una chela con ojos de gargajo, Regina?”

 

“It sounds to me like we’re leaving.” Regina tells them with a huff and Emma can feel her inside tightening right alongside Regina’s jaw.

 

She turns on her heel without another word, stalking off into the green and white of the night.

 

“Uh, thanks.” Emma offers Lupe before rushing behind her.

 

Hearing the crunch of their steps in the snows and seeing how the wind disturbs a stray hair of Regina’s here and there Emma believes she could call this a good night. Her heart beats and beats and she will not call it longing. Not out loud and most certainly not in the presence of her thief. In this cold her eyes relearn the color of her lips and she wonders, fearing discovery, if there are any side effects for her too. The pounding in her chest is most desperate to know.

 

“How you know Lupe?” As you can imagine this question elicits a tug inside her chest.

 

“Old friend of the family’s. Or what’s left of us, anyway.” Regina looks as if she had truly forgotten herself and it feels like the beginning of an answer to Emma.

 

“It’s just you, your sister and the kid?” It is just the three of them but of course three is a whole lot more than one. Emma had learned that lesson when she was too young for numbers. 

 

“Something tells me you already know more about my family than you let on, Miss Swan.”

 

“Your keen intuition?”

 

Regina rolls her eyes. “You would have to be this city’s worst bounty-hunter if you had never heard of my family name.”

 

Emma shrugs suddenly boiling under her layers of clothing, embarrassed and unsure of how long she might keep the whole truth to herself.  “You think I care about that kind of stuff?”

 

“And what? You came to my office purely because of my reputation as an attorney? Please.” Here Emma detects doubt and she dares to meet her gaze. It wants to break expecting a sting in whatever Emma’s answer will be. Her thief is afraid, you see.

 

“Alright, maybe not.” Emma concedes through a smile that becomes a short laugh.

 

“It was a pretty lousy case you’d built anyway.” There is the hint of a smile and her heart sense that it’s just enough. For tonight, anyway. Hearts do become greedy things when presented with true magic, as you well know.

 

The green soon fades into white that will soon is swallowed by the streetlights the lower levels of the city. It is in the manner that Emma realizes that the night, six hours away from morning, has come to an end. With the snow on Regina’s hair melting away under the yellow of the lights Emma Swan decides to fight this fact in the only way she knows possible. She walks her thief back to her car.

 

“So Friday night at Tita’s?” Her fingers are sticky as she stretches them in this cold.

 

“You actually want to follow up on that ridiculous tip?” Regina busies herself with getting her door unlocked to avoid looking interested. This is an old trick she knows and recognizes instantly.

 

“Why not?” Emma holds the door open for her with the absolute certainty that she is extremely transparent.

 

“Good night, Miss Swan.” Regina’s eyes are no longer holding back their shine as Emma closes the door for her.

 

And it is that simple and quiet moment that has the air smelling of lavender and pepper again.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! RL got the better of me and my scheduling but updates will be closer together now! Thank you to everyone has kept up with this weird story, you guys are the true heroes.

What you might have divined about Emma is that she does not spend a great deal of her time worrying about her looks. She had a found her red leather jacket when she’d been thinner that she had been in years and decided that it felt like an armor of old from a story people have forgotten altogether. Tonight, however, is not the like the rest. That much she has learned in this time spent with her thief. On this Friday night she sees her reflection look back in disapproval of her less than stellar choices. 

 

“Don’t you think it’s been long enough?” Genie’s face pops up at her wrist, much less patient since she rebooted him. “You’re going to be late.”

 

“It just doesn’t feel quite right.” She sighs as she unzips her jeans and tosses them into a corner. “Find anything on Tita’s yet?” 

 

“No. The spells around the search results are too strong.” There is a pause to suggest that he might be going over in his words in a way only a being that is half magic and half technology could. “And you are sure this is the best way to go about this?” 

 

“Yeah. I mean what else would work? I’m all ears, Genie.” Emma tries a form fitting black dress she and decides against it. Even you would have to admit that such a dress assumes too much about the night. 

 

“Oh, I don’t know. _ ”  _ Static invades his expression as Emma slips into her jeans again. “You could  _ tell her the truth?!” _

 

“No, no way.” She replies curling her fingers through her hair and checking her smile for the first in a decade. “I can’t scare her off. Regina can’t know that I know.” 

 

“So she’s just Regina now?” 

 

“Well, what am I supposed to call her? Majesty?” 

 

“That was her title back when…” 

 

Emma, as evident to all reading this, has become protective of her thief. And while she knows it is the influence of the web on Genie’s unbalanced levels of magic she can’t help the scowl on her face. 

 

“You know, I don’t think your need help with tonight.” 

 

“How are you going to find your way back?” He asks with all the outrage he can muster. 

 

“I’ll figure it out.” There is a pang of guilt when she shuts him down, he’d only been trying to help. Her heart, however, is satisfied with her decision. It races when she wonders if her blouse is good enough and if her lace-ups are right at all. 

 

There is a momentary red glow in the mirror, a blur over her chest. It makes her jump but her heart seems to have anticipated her surprise as it remains constant in its beating. Emma convinces herself that it had been just a city light, hovering outside her window for a second or two. It works marvelously as she layers a bulky scarf over a bulky coat and covers her head with her gray woolen hat and pretends it’s all forgotten.

 

Denial is an art form Emma Swan has perfected across the years. Her skill as an artist, unbeknown to her, will be tested tonight. 

 

* * *

For any of you who may wonder about the city of the purples and pinks and its composition in this vague and distant time here follows a brief description. The City Woods of course sit at the heart of it all, having swallowed up three or four power plants half-way up the city and account for the weekly blackout. The city rises up into the sky with so many lights and sounds that citizens can hardly tell day from night lest the bother to past it all, a thing they seldom do. There are rows and rows of cars up in the city, and it’s commonly known that the higher up you are the better you can look down on the people below. Ground level is reserved for secrets, for things best hidden and for portals taking you to other realms. It is the only thing down there that is touched by wealth, as only the richest or cleverest are able to make their way to other worlds. 

 

Tita’s is not a place touched by any of it, that much Emma can guess feeling the pavement become cobblestone under her boots. 

 

_ “And how am I supposed to find this place?”  Emma had asked over a holo-chat sipping a beer. It’s important to have the pretense of a life when facing your heart’s thief.  _

 

_ “It’s more about it finding you,” Regina had rubbed her temples for you see it’s important to have the pretense of annoyance when facing the owner of a heart you’d stolen, or so Emma hoped. “Once you reach the Old District, you’ll know where to go.”  _

 

_ “Are you sure about that, Mills?” She’d hidden her grin behind her glass.  _

 

_ “Good-bye, Miss Swan.” Regina had rolled her eyes hoping, perhaps, that the static would blur the hint of a smile she’d been showing.  _

 

“I’ll know where to go  _ my ass. _ ” Emma mutters to herself as the pink of the lights turn red and the purple turn blue. If she feels lost it is because she is lost and that to a bounty-hunter is a special kind of humiliation. “I swear to...why couldn’t this had been a hellbeast bar or a vampire café…” 

 

So caught up in her muttering had she been that her feet taking a mind of their own had gone almost unnoticed. Her steps begin to echo in the emptiness of the many alleyways and crooks of the Old District before Emma catches on. Logically, like any person unaccustomed to this magic, she tries to fight it. Her fingers slip from brick and from metal railings, unable to stop her march. When she is done fighting she picks up on the muffled sound of music and you here we must aid her in the description. Heavy rhythmical clapping accompanying violins, guitars and drums.There all sounds that do not belong in this time and Emma is absolutely taken. The restlessness of her feet stops when a dark brick building is in view accompanied by a long line of people. 

 

“You’re late.” Her thief says nearly stealing her heart again. “And what the hell are you wearing?” Her bulkiness is wrong; nothing about her is quite right. 

 

“I...uh..um.” She is short for words, dumbfounded by Regina in a silver dress, made it such a way that it fans out from her chest. It cuts high on her thigh and there isn’t a shiver to her exposed skin. Her hair is curled and parted to a side and her eyes glow gold. Her breath has all but left her. “I..didn’t..” 

 

“God! Is she here yet, you had me call in a favor and that idiot…Oh. You’re here.”Zelena Mills  is not dressed any less impressively, with an emerald dress that ties itself around her neck and flows with the wind.  “What the hell are you wearing?” 

 

“It’s not like I was warned there was a dress code!” Emma exclaims to hide her embarrassment. “What is this place anyway?!”  

 

“Should I or should you?” Zelena gestures towards her as she were nothing more than a mannequin. 

 

“Just be quick about it.” Regina replies completely unaware that Emma had noticed the way her hands tightened and how she moistened her lips. 

 

“Hey, hey what are you..?!” A green cloud of smoke envelops her completely and Emma’s nose picks up on the smell of rain. Her heart protests that this is entirely the wrong scent and demands her to do something. Anything, really. But Emma stays put feeling magic run all over her skin, changing whatever it finds unsuitable. 

 

“All done! What do you think, sis? Think I outdid myself this time.” Zelena smiles with a glint to her her teeth. 

 

“It’s certainly…” Regina clears her throat and as you might have expected, she is fighting a blush. “Adequate.” 

 

Emma does her absolute best to keep from shivering in the harsh cold of the ground level but it’s of no use. Her arms are now bare and not daring to look down, she can feel her cleavage just as bare. Her teeth clatter enough to catch her thief’s attention. For a moment it looks as if she wants to reach out but corrects her course in time. 

 

“Zelena…” Regina glares at her sister as waves her hand over her and a sudden comforting warmth wraps around Emma. “No heating spell?” 

 

“I forgot.” She winks at Emma and this you recognize as an obvious sign that it had been intentional. “Come on now, don’t want to owe Glinda any more than I already do.” 

 

Emma tries to catch Regina’s gaze as they follow after her sister but it seems to her that Regina is determined to avoid in even breathing in her direction. 

 

“They’re with me, Lance darling.” Zelena says to the tallest man in the city dressed in the most impossible shade of white. It highlights the deep and warm color of his skin and the amused smile he wears. 

 

“Don’t go causing trouble, Lenita.” 

 

“Me? Never!” Zelena hurries off as if she’s seen someone she recognizes and pays them no mind. 

 

“Your sister makes me glad I don’t do this for a living.” Lance tells Regina with resigned air of familiarity. 

 

“I wonder why.” Emma says suddenly hearing a roar from the crowd inside and attributing it to Zelena. 

 

“And you are? Regina’s d…?”

 

“Associate,” She cuts him short and a certain heart grumbles. Thieves should not be so dishonest, you see. “We’re following up on a lead, is all.” Regina’s chin is out and her hands are at her waist, the perfect practiced authority. 

 

“Well, Tita’s just the place for that. Go right in.” He shakes his head, incredulous as any person would be, as they begin to walk away. “See you Monday in court, Regina!” 

 

Emma tilts her head until Regina looks at her, perhaps it’s the that unspoken bond between her heart and her hands but she seems to understand there is question hanging in the air.

 

“Opposing counsel.” She likes her airs of mystery, Emma knows this. Nothing comes easy with Regina Mills; most things anyway.“This way.” Regina takes her wrist and the smallest contact of skin on skin has her magic flooding her senses. 

 

It’s a hall of mirrors and it is here that Emma cannot recognize herself. Her hair has been feathered and a denim jumpsuit hugs her figure a little too tightly. Its zipper has been fixed so that it opens just where she would never want it to. She couldn’t have thought of any of it for herself but she has to admit it suits her well, especially when her eyes meet Regina’s in the mirror. 

 

“You still haven’t told me what this place is.” Emma complains with all the outrage she can fake. 

 

“Why, Miss Swan, don’t tell me someone of your expertise has not heard of Tita’s?” Regina teases as a great dance room opens up to them. Oranges and blues take over reflecting off Regina’s dress. It is its own kind of magic, special and momentary. Unique to this night, her heart is quick to inform her of this. 

 

“I..had not.” Emma counts herself lucky that she can even string a sentence together. 

 

There is a large stage at the end of the room and it all seems like a dream people in the higher levels pay a great deal for. There are six people on stage including a man whose face she recognizes from many holo-verts selling the beauties of a far away realm. The green of his eyes is apparent this far away and he dances in a way that suggest it is pure talent, unteachable and unrepeatable. Something dear Emma, as it will become apparent, knows little about. 

 

“Everyone, everyone. Give it up for Prince Naveen and the Gators!” A woman in a black sequins gown announces to the room as she beats a tambourine against her palms. Her white hair perfectly frames her face, almost as if she were underwater. 

 

“It’s the this city’s best kept secret. It has been since I was seventeen.” Regina tells her with words closer to her skin than she had expected. Under these lights and with the pulse of the music it’s not hard to imagine that Regina had been seventeen once. Carefully making her way down from the highest tower in the city to smoke and colors of this place. 

 

“Yeah?” Emma struggles to reply as she thinks of her world at seventeen that had none of these sounds. “Was it the same back then?” 

 

“Of course it wasn’t,” She smiles and Emma discovers, alongside you, that away from knowing eyes and ears Regina Mills is less afraid. “Tita wouldn’t stand for that” 

 

Her heart beats in greed, makes her wish for a corner where she would need to bow her head to hear Regina speak. Music and beauty would do that to any returned heart, not that Emma Swan would use these words. Two eel-girls offer them champagne and she drinks because Regina does, being too lost in a world she never imagined existed. 

 

“What was it like?” Emma asks her suddenly a bit overwhelmed by the night and music. 

 

“What was what like?” Regina holds her half empty glass by the tip of her fingers. 

 

“Being seventeen.” It is what her heart had intended and she almost clasps her hands to her mouth. 

 

“Hard.” She presses her lips together and the champagne begins tasting bitter in Emma’s lips. There are, after all, consequences to having your heart stolen by someone such as Regina. 

 

“Drink to that?” Emma raises her glass feeling that this rhythm and these colors did not do much for a girl who once been called queen of something. Titles are horrible thing to wear when they are unwanted. Street rats like her, she thinks, know it better than anyone. 

 

Regina clinks her glass with hers and quirks an eyebrow, poised to ask a question. “Where were you at that age?” Perhaps you have heard it somewhere else, the way Regina Mills disguises her curiosity with a measured bravado. Perhaps you have not, but nevertheless there is now a drumming in Emma’s ears. 

 

“Fresh out of a cell, driving to the city.” Her smile is weak but enough to convey that this is an old and almost forgotten sadness. The kind that only comes when sleep does not. 

 

“This city is too cruel for a child.” Regina’s hand goes her chest, suggesting that she thinks only of her son and not of the girl she’d been. 

 

“Maybe,” Emma considers her next words carefully, her heart holds them tightly against itself. “It got me this far that’s not so bad. Is it?” 

 

“It’s,” She drags her response almost as if she were timid.If you’ve read anything on her past you would thought this a delusion. “Not terrible, I suppose.”

 

Emma smiles the way only a person whose heart has been unwillingly returned can, with hope that is much too obvious to be dignified. She doesn’t much care about dignity, not with a great warmth spreading throughout her chest. 

 

“Sssssister, Missss Ursula will see you now.” An eel-headed girl snakes past her making her jump against Regina. 

 

“Quickly before Misss Ursula decides your sssisster’s tokenssss are worthlessss.” The other girl says and together they circle them.

 

Eel-girls have the gift of persuasion, Emma knows this having encountered eel-girls at other venues, and take them past the dancers, waiters on skates and paid-drunks to go a back room.  Gone are the colors of the floor and stage, the only light here comes from a vanity. It’s a bright and clinical, designed to highlight imperfections. The woman from the stage sits there, carefully re-lining her eyes. The whole room has the distinct smell of damp and salt. 

 

“My, my, look who Lenita finally dragged back.” Miss Ursula says watching Regina from her mirror. “Cost her a pair of ruby slippers, this must be good. You have three minutes” 

 

“Do you know anything about stolen and returned hearts?” Emma is quick this time with her questions. If Regina Mills minds, it only shows in the biting of her lips. 

 

“My poor dear, sweet child. You’ve come to the right place!” Miss Ursula stands up, her body plump and dressed in perfectly fitting black. 

 

“That’s what Lupe told us. They said this place could bring Miss Swan closer to her thief, as she has no idea who is responsible.” Regina’s tone convey a different meaning, that of someone expecting to get her way. “But you know how they can get, sentimental in their old age. Very probably wrong.” 

 

“Wrong, girl? About this place?” She fixes her hair exasperated. “Your insolence only grew worse over the years.” 

 

“Um, I officially don’t know what’s going on.” Emma cuts in with that same special humiliation of being lost. 

 

“Your girl here…” Miss Ursula turns around to face them both, leaning against her vanity with her arms crossed. 

 

“I’m not…” 

 

“She’s not…” 

 

“Thinks she knows everything.” She moistens her lips, savoring what she will say next. “Most especially about hearts.” 

 

“Tell me something I don’t know then.” Regina smiles in that way that suggest she wants to do everything but, you must remember how this looks. 

 

“I will, for a dance.” 

 

“With who?!”It is Emma’s heart who asks the question through her, possessive of something that Emma feels does not belong to them. 

 

“This is ridiculous, Ursula. Zelena already paid this price.” 

 

“Uh, uh. That’s where you are wrong, child.” She coughs and takes a sip from a vial next to her hand. “How do you land people manage without water?” 

 

“You said three minutes.”  Emma tells her, feeling that tightness in her gut from Regina’s restraint. 

 

“Her sister paid the price to get you a meeting. Not for information,” Miss Ursula laughs the laugh of someone who knows too much. “For a dance, you could get what you came for.” 

 

“That is preposterous and I think this is over.” Regina grits her teeth and is halfway when the inevitable bait comes her way. 

 

“I never knew you to be a quitter, Regina.” Emma watches Regina’s back tense in Ursula’s mirror. “I suppose that’s the one thing you grew into.” 

 

“Fine.” She huffs. “Do I just agree or do I have to sign my soul away to you?” 

 

“No contracts necessary. Just a dance under the lights and you get what you want.” 

 

“I’ll wait outside.” Emma says before any part of her can stop her, disappointment seeping into those three small words.

 

“What for? It’s you two who are paying the price together.” Miss Ursula laughs as her thief’s breathing gets faster. She can feel it in her ribs and under her skin. 

 

This is when Emma sees it again. That red glow on her chest, brighter with excitement this time. It’s unmistakable over her heart, she looks away to find Miss Ursula smirking at her. 

 

“Thank me later.” She tells Emma just as the red of her chest disappears. 

 

“Let’s get this over with.” Regina’s words come out in a sigh

 

The eel- girls are back to escort them back to the oranges and blues. Emma, as you might suspect, doesn’t know what to do with her hands let alone her feet. She cannot get a word out overwhelmed by trumpets and violins playing over everything else. It is not complicated task after all, this particular song has partners dancing away from each other. 

 

“Should we?” She shouts nodding towards the dance floor. 

 

Just as Regina nods the trumpets and violins smooth over into quieter guitars and piano, not even magic could explain how easily it transitioned. Neither can magic explain the pull between two people, no matter that one had their heart stolen by the other. The colors move along with the music and it feels remarkably close to being drunk in the finest brew money can buy. Of course, this is the effect of Emma Swan failing to keep up with the rhythm of night with Regina Mills.

 

“Stop that.” Regina orders her. 

 

“Stop what?” Despite the heating spell still protecting her a cold fear runs all through her. 

 

“Whatever it is you call dancing.” She takes Emma’s hands and places them on her waist. “Feel it, don’t think it.” 

 

Emma nods because she is confident that the only thing she can produce is a sway. 

 

“Is that better?”

 

“Who knew you were so talented, Miss Swan?” She teases daring to lock her gaze with hers. 

 

She laughs in return. “You could just call me Emma, you know?” Of course there is complaint that as the owner of the only returned heart she has a right to hear her name. 

 

“I could.” Regina rests her arms on Emma’s shoulders, almost casually but you know otherwise. It’s that magic that cannot be reproduced, bought or faked, the moment of closeness a heart yearns for. 

 

“How do you know Miss Ursula?” She tries to whisper. 

 

“She used to work  the door and sing on stage back when Tita’s first opened.” Regina laughs remembering something that doesn’t feel so distant. “I stole her ID.” 

 

“What? Why?” With the way fondness and curiosity creep in she about being given away by everything about her. 

 

“To commit a misdemeanour, why else?” It’s the truth, short and simple as it is, Emma can tell.

 

“Arson?” 

 

“Do I look like an arsonist?” Emma shrugs as a reply because she could not easily say that it’s fire she looks like. “Besides why on Earth would I need a stolen ID for arson?” 

 

“Good point.” 

 

“I took a girl’s voice.” Regina confesses with her voice sadder and closer to her. 

 

She and her heart understand that they must say nothing. Emma simply gently tightens her grip on her waist. 

 

“To the unfortunate souls who struck a deal with me, congratulations you’ve paid the price!” Miss Ursula announces on stage breaking the unmagical spell. “Cross onto the world under the waves to find what you’re looking for!” No one has ever looked so smugly pleased with herself as Miss Ursula does as this moment. 

 

Regina shakes her head as if to signal that this was the obvious answer but does not leave the dancefloor. 

 

Not long after as she crosses the hall of mirrors on her way out, there is the glow. Stronger and warmer on her chest, she can see the outline of her returned heart this time. Emma Swan, for the first time in days, does not have the wonder about the meaning of it. Not when she follows the scent of lavender and hears her thief’s voice scolding her very intoxicated sister. 

 

“Fuck.” It is not the most eloquent way to describe the moment when denial finally breaks but it is certainly the most exact one.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally thought this would be jazz club but I don't anything about jazz so it's officially a disco underground club. Lenita is Zelena's nickname derived from Zelenita (little Zelena).  
> Btw [this is the song they danced to ;)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hjqPmqXy7nc)


End file.
